Wind and Snow of the Night
by liarcomebacktome
Summary: Rukia weeps into Hitsugaya's arms in mourning...


_No matter how far the wind blows, how hard it pushes; it can never push a person down. It can never push a person down…_

Her eyes never seemed more concentrated in her life time, and never was he more concentrated on them. He was confused, so very confused of that look in her eyes. Was it fear? No, such a woman as her would never show fear in front of him. Was it demise? No it wasn't that either. Disappointment? Depression? Loneliness? What was it…

"He's dead…" low, dark, and barely audible she whispered to words to him, while falling onto her knees.

He recognized it, but only just. It was sadness, and death. Dark, thick and clouding her eyes, soon starting to rain down her cheeks, leaving a stain later once they had dried.

_If they ever dried…_

"What is it, Ru…" his words, were cut off when he had realized how informal he was being, she may be in pain, but formality was still crucial unless given consent.

"Ichigo… is dead…" she clutched his shihakusho in her balled fists, the top of her head resting against his stomach, and tears dripping from her cheeks, to fall to the brick below her, forming small puddles that would dry within seconds.

He was not surprised, his turquoise eyes staring upon her weeping figure, he would not feel sympathy for such a pathetic sight, for such an intelligent, brave and amazing Soul Reaper such as herself, to fall this low for a _human_. He _wouldn't_, was not how he was feeling. He wasn't willing to give her such a hard time at such a grieving moment for her; he was not going to give her such a hard time.

He reached his hand down to cup the side of her head with his palm, her head turned upwards, teal eyes staring up into moonlight white hair and turquoise eyes coming closer to her, he was crouching before her, their eyes on the same level as one another, hers filled with liquid of sadness and his filled with false understanding. His eyes were half from half-lidded, looking slightly tired, but staring deep into hers, swimming past the tears to send her the message. His hand now cupping her cheek, the ice of such a person, his hand was surprisingly warm.

"I heard… awhile ago, that he…" he was stopping, he was having difficulty speaking. She was losing tears, and losing water to create the tears. Her hand rested on his, faint pressure on her cheek, and her fingers wrapping in the gaps between his fingers.

"Why?" asking, but not receiving an answer from him. He closed his eyes and stared down, his head shifting its position so she could no longer see his face, but sees the top of his snow spiky hair.

"I am unsure of such a deed to be done by one of the captains…" he finally responded.

It was quiet, he never looked up at her, even though his neck was starting to hurt, ache in pain but not as much as her heart. The night was quite warm, appallingly during winter, which was his favourite season. She was growing tired of staring at him, but he not returning the favour. Now his neck was really starting to ache, but he did not dare look into those hurt eyes he saw weep before.

"Look at me." She commanded. He did not.

"Please look at me." She was starting to beg for his emotions; for once he was not cold like ice. But still he did not move. Her nails dug into his palm purposely, he cringed, grinded his teeth, but still restrained.

"Look at me, Toshiro." _No_.

His name, she was now using his name, which was not to be used by Soul Reapers, that was not supposed to be used by Lieutenants and other captains. He, reluctant to the very core, lifted his head, and looked. She was no longer crying for the lost lover of hers, she was searching for her love, which was still kneeling, his palm still resting against her cold face, with her cold tears being absorbed by his hand's skin.

He wished he was dead.

He wished he was dead at the stare she was giving him; she was giving him that stare that had all men of the Soul Society falling to their knees, paralysed. He was already on the ground, with one knee at least touching it so the effect wouldn't do much to him.

It still did something to him.

He wanted to kiss her.

So badly.

That stare… the stare that was so fine and rare… was putting him under a spell and his heart was slowing.

He was going to go into cardiac arrest.

And it was like she had read his mind.

"Kiss me." Another commandment, it wasn't her authority, it was his.

Screw it; they were on a rooftop in the snow at night for Christ sakes.

The both closed their eyes slowly, her lips slightly parted and yearning for his, the hand that was touching her face, snaked around to the back of her head, pushing it forward slightly, their foreheads bumped, and he opened his mouth.

"If this is the last time, Rukia, then let's make the most of it, even in the cold." He whispered.

Their lips met, and the moonlight was shining brightly upon them, trying desperately to disturb them with the blinding light, but failing.

_But failing_…

_But falling…_


End file.
